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Molestr (Mg, oral, anal) AnonyMPC 15/10/16(Fri)19:00 No. 23912 ID: a609fb

Just a short piece I wrote quickly a few days ago. Went a little younger than I usually do, but mostly because one part of the idea demanded it. Probably not my best but sometimes you have to clear some ideas out when they're interfering with other ones.

Molestr (Mg, oral, anal)

Everyone knows that every new technology will be used for sex, if it possibly can be. Sometimes directly, sometimes as a means to acquire it, and when all else fails, it'll be used to make porn so people can have sex with themselves.

Everyone also knows that the first and most enthusiastic adopters of new technology are the young. They may rely on their parents to actually GET the technology, but if they can get their hands on it, kids'll use it like it was second nature. They call this generation digital natives, and it's pretty accurate... one of my nieces learned to read on a tablet, not a book.

Like everyone else, I knew both of those pieces of common wisdom about technology... what I didn't consider was the intersection point. At least, not until I got caught in between where those two universal truths collided, and my whole world changed forever.

I rarely went anywhere without my smartphone, like most people, but, a little more unusually, I almost never used it as a phone. Instead, I had four main uses for it. I used it to keep track of news, weather and traffic, I used it to play games to pass dead time, I used it to keep up to date on social media accounts, and, in the spirit of that first eternal rule, I sometimes I used it to attempt to get laid, although mostly I told myself I was searching for love.

Mostly, I was, but sometimes, I'd have been satisfied with sex. And I'm not going to lie. Neither goal ever worked that well for me. At all. But then, that wasn't the phone's fault, I just wasn't that good at the social interaction thing in general, much less hooking up with people.

I like to think that I look decent enough to attract a girl, and I can get first dates, but after that... it never quite works out. I've got a certain awkwardness that puts people off when they first meet me... most of my romances have been people from school or work who knew me for a while, but I was out of school and at work there were no suitable options left that weren't either in a relationship or somone I'd already tried and failed to make a connection. And random dates, whether set-up by friends and family or attempted on my own, just hadn't been working out... there's probably something to the idea that desperation was making the problem even worse. But I kept trying, intermittently, when the loneliness or horniness got too intense.

It was during one of those periods that I was out drinking with a few friends, people from work. Honestly, I wasn't great at making friends, either, but at least that was easier, and at work, easiest of all. The same rules applied, once they got to know me, the awkwardness faded and we found common interests. Since I started working there I'd carved out a small group of friends, and we'd go out as a group a few times a month to a sports bar.

Normally it's a bit of relaxing fun, we'd watch something or play a trivia game, eat some cheap food... except this time, where, over a big plate of wings, somehow the conversation had come around to my love life. I'd always tried to gently steer away from a focus on me, but occasionally these people knew I'd had a date and then, pretty soon, knew that it hadn't gone well, and when that happened, it was hard to avoid the commentary.

This night of drinks was right after one of those rejections. The date itself actually had gone fairly well, at least I thought. I was hoping for a second. But when I asked her for another date, after waiting two days (three is the recommended, but I couldn't wait)... she told me she had just started dating somebody seriously.

Fuck my life. I'm not going to blame her for what happened to me, but... I was mopey all day after the rejection, and when I was invited out after, I was probably hitting the drinks, and the hot wings harder than usual. I'm not a weepy drunk, or an angry drunk, but I can go between broody and happy, depending on my mood when I start out, and it got noticed, and after a little prodding, I told them the story, as dull as it was.

"So, you'll get the next one," said Jimmy, trying to be encouraging but coming off more than a little bored. "Don't stress over it. Stressing is the worst thing you can do."

"It's true," said Rama. "Your problem is that you put the pussy on a pedestal." I'd heard those words before but they somehow sounded more ridiculous than usual with a slight Indian accent. "You're too polite and hesitant, it turns the girls off... you just need to go for it. Seal the deal, man."

"It's not just about sex. I could have sex," I said, trying to convince myself as much as them. "It's more important to be with someone I want to actually spend time with." And it was. But, so was what he said, that I probably should be more aggressive. And, right then... the sex was the part my mind seemed to be focusing on. I don't know if you've ever been that low, but sometimes it seems like everybody's having constant wild sex but you... and it doesn't just make you horny and depressed, it makes you irrationally angry, like somebody's having too much and taking your share when all you want is one person to love and fuck once in a while. If you're like me, you push it down and don't let it show, but it's another layer of unpleasantness to a life deprived.

"That's sweet," said Karen, Jimmy's girlfriend. Before he swooped in, I nursed a bit of a crush on her. I guess I still did, but I didn't make it obvious. "You shouldn't give up on that hope, really." Then she looked at Jimmy, like she expected him to say what came next.

He did, and I wondered for a moment if they'd talked about me alone, or if it was a sign that they were perfectly in synch. One more reason to envy the bastard. I mean bastard mostly affectionately, I wouldn't have gone drinking with him if I didn't like him, but a part of me still glowered inside at the knowledge that he, seemingly effortlessly, fell into the kind of connection I craved. Of course, maybe he didn't even say what she expected him to say. "But it's been a while, right? Since you've had sex?"

I wouldn't have answered it if I hadn't already been drinking, and if they weren't all staring at me. "A couple months, yeah." Which was the truth, if you allowed "a couple months" to include anywhere up to half a year... and then doubled it. And added a few months on top.

"See," Rama said, as though that proved his point. "Before you can have a relationship, you need to get laid. That's probably why you're not getting anywhere, you stink of desperation." This wasn't the first time I'd heard it. It wasn't even the first time I heard it from Rama.

"It's true," Karen said, then made a face. "I mean, I don't think you literally stink of desperation, but... women can sense it when you're too eager. Don't give up on love, but some plain old meaningless sex once in a while is fine too." She locked eyes with Jimmy, then added, quickly, "When you're not in a relationship, I mean."

I know they were trying to help, but I suppressed a scowl. What annoyed me about this advice most was the assumption that this was just so easy. Maybe for some people it was, but these were the people that didn't need it. But I didn't say anything, just stared into my bottle, and that let Jimmy speak again. "Yeah. Just have a one-night stand, find a woman who doesn't want anything more either... hell, get a prostitute if you have to."

"Don't get a prostitute," Karen said, rolling her eyes. "But go to a club, take a girl home that you would never normally go for." Again, much easier said than done. Then again, I bet every time Karen went to a club with the hope of going home with some random guy she'd never met, she succeeded.

As she spoke, Rama pulled out his phone, and called up an program. "Here, this is a good app for that."

"I've already tried Tinder." There were certainly a number of women I felt worthy of swiping right on. Or was it swiping left? The fact that I could never remember probably didn't help. But either way, I'd gotten no matches. I worried that maybe my pictures weren't up to snuff or my profile didn't attract, but, in the end, I put it down to the usual problem in a dating pool: so many more guys than girls, along with me being too picky. That was a big problem for me. I got picky and ridiculous things, from unpleasant appearance, to smoking, to tattoos, to putting 'wine' as an interest, were enough to make me push the rejection button. Maybe they had a point that I should just be less picky for a while, accept everyone and see what happens. Maybe I could give Tinder another try. Especially while drunk.

Rama had a different option, though. "This isn't Tinder. It's local, and it's more... openly about hookups." Tinder already seemed to be pretty openly about hookups, so I looked up, curious about how a site could be even more blatant about it. He showed me the screen, and the name was prominent while it loaded up. I'm not going to reveal it. But it was like Tumblr, or Flickr, omitting a letter to seem hip and edgy. That alone made sure I didn't have high hopes, but, still... my co-workers had a point. I needed to change something. "It's getting popular."

Fine, I thought. I'd try it. What's the worst that could happen?

The decision didn't feel like a big dramatic revelation, for all that it wound up changing my life. Their advice wasn't entirely new, after all. I was honest when I said I was trying to build a relationship, but I'd always kept myself open to meaningless flings. I just hadn't had any luck there, either, none presented themselves. Of course, I'd done it passively, telling myself that if I went on the date and it seemed like it could be a one night stand, I'd go for it. The idea that maybe I should try to get a girl and just be open about only wanting meaningless sex right off the bat... it wasn't a new idea, but it was one I'd always been unwilling to consider. But why not? If nothing else was working, you've got to change things, right? "Maybe," I said, not wanting to seem too eager and invite them asking about my progress later. But I took a mental note of the app name so I could look it up later. It couldn't hurt to try an entirely new site for a fresh start. I could create a profile there, use a fake name, be bold. It was worth a try. "Anyway, enough about me... can you guys believe that asshole Craig?" It was a transparent attempt to change the subject... we'd already discussed him, but they let it slide and we talked about other things, had a few more drinks, and I took a cab home.

It was the next evening that I remembered the app, looked it up, and installed it on my phone. I spent about five minutes browsing without doing anything, and decided to put it aside for a while, that I'd stick with my usual assortment of dating sites, Tinder, and the like. Maybe I'd come back to it when I got desperate.

Desperation came on next Casual Friday, where Karen wore a tight fucking t-shirt that drew my eye to her cleavage all day, although subtly. And worse, I think she knew it and was playing to me. It could have been my imagination. I didn't walk around with a boner all day, but it seeped into my subconscious and I was horny as fuck when I went home. I did a little porn browsing to relieve the immediate tension, and when I was done with the unsatisfying solo act, began to yearn again for some actual female companionship. So, when I found I had no new matches anywhere else, I went back to the new app.

I wasn't expecting much. It had seemed right off the bat to be a transparent knock-off of the actual Tinder... you either approved or rejected somebody, and once you rejected them, they didn't seem to come up again. The big difference I noticed was that it didn't seem to connect to Facebook (which was advertised as a feature, not a drawback), and, perhaps as a consequence, there seemed to be a lot more profiles without pictures at all, just descriptions, like "Twenty-three year old curvy girl, loves giving oral, no names needed." Sometimes they'd say pictures available on request. Sometimes they openly asked for money, which made me wonder if Rama was just politely giving me the means to go get a prostitute.

But what the fuck, I thought. The whole point of this was to just go for it, get laid. It had been too long, and my standards were a lot lower. It wouldn't be my first choice, but if finding someone who was just up for it for fun didn't work out....

I filled out a simple profile, bare bones... I figured if some of them wouldn't put pictures, neither would I. I just said I was mid-twenties, fit, which was true enough. In the options menu, there was a "willing to pay for play", which, although they refused to define it, seemed pretty clearly to imply prostitution. I clicked "we'll talk" because, I didn't want to limit my options and... fuck it, I was horny and willing to take out my frustrations over Karen on a prostitute at that point. They also had a menu option for kinks, and I selected "I'll try anything once," knowing in my heart that I probably wouldn't. It had some other traditional dating profile options too... I selected "Cartoons" and "Secret Codes" under 'likes' (more because I was surprised that the option was given than out of any particular interest) and under pet peeves, I chose, off their provided list, smoking, drugs, and, to inject a bit of whimsy, "typos."

I realized that I was going back on my plan to create an ultra-desirable persona that wasn't at all like me, and lower my standards. Admitting to liking cartoons and adding whimsy was the kind of thing you did when you wanted to find a girlfriend who was like you, not when you wanted to portray an alpha male and hook up. But I guess I was just too honest... it's hard to change a lifetime of habits, at least without a good push.

My own profile set, I went back to the real meat of the site, skimming through the available profiles that were presented. I started off by selecting most of the girls, unless their pictures were obviously not my type or their profiles were too old for me. I guess I was still pickier than I had any right to be, but I congratulated myself on being willing to look past tattoos, although that turned out not to matter, in the end. Once I got tired of making choices, I put the phone away and watched some Netflix. I didn't have high hopes. These things took time, if they took at all.

It was Sunday when I got my first and, for quite a while, only, hit.

It wasn't only a match, but she had already sent me a message. The preview said "Hiiii...." but I would have had to press on it to see the whole thing.

It was exciting to get a positive result so quickly, but I pressed on her name first and checked out the profile before I read the full message and got my hopes up. It was not promising... one of those with no pictures. The written description seemed to paint the picture of a very sexually open girl. As I read it, it went like this: "19-year-old girl tight body likes 2 have fun. I'll suck you if you lick me. We'll do more if I like you." After that, there was a series of acronyms I couldn't make heads or tails of... UABFC, TJES, a few others.

My first thought was, "Whore." In a literal sense, not a pejorative one. She seemed to me like she was a prostitute using this to set up dates, and maybe the acronyms were things people who frequented whores would recognize... like UABFC could stand for "Understandably Avoid Bareback, Furnish Condoms" or something, if the whore was unnecessarily verbose. Maybe TJES was "Titty Jobs Extra Surcharge." I knew those guesses would be way off, but still, I had the whiff of whore. And sure enough, when I went on to her detailed profile, her settings said "we'll talk" under 'pay for play.'

What made me decide to go for it was her first message, when I finally read it. "Hiiii. So what cartoons do you like?"

I mean, if it was a whore, surely she'd get right to business, or start with sex talk. Starting with cartoons seemed like the move of a person seeking a genuine connection... a very strange person, judging by everything else, but I was pretty strange too.

So I responded with, "Right now, Family Guy, American Dad, Golan The Insatiable, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, and Rick and Morty."

"Niice..." She responded after a bit. Two i's in nice, this was a girl who did not rely on autocomplete. "I havn't cn rick and morty and American Dad's dumb but the others are good. I like Star vs evil."

"Yeah, that's a good one too." I had only seen a few episodes of it so far and hadn't really formed an opinion.

"You go to school?"

"No, I'm finished school," I said, and, worried I might be too old for her, I added. "That ok?"

"Ok." Her next message took us out of the casual. "So you like to have sex?"

That seemed like a pretty odd question, and I had a new impression of the mysterious person on the other end of the line... someone who didn't speak very good English. I went back and forth between reading everything with a Russian accent or an Asian one, those seeming the most likely to me. "Yeah," I responded, still not sure if she was actually inviting me for sex right then, or just asking if I, in general, like to have sex, but that response worked either way.

"Okay but not right now. We'll make a time, I'll suck you, you lik me, ok?" An emoji that appeared to be winking suggestively ended the line.

Hard to say no to that deal... assuming she wasn't fundamentally nasty. I wasn't expecting a beauty queen, but I did have some standards. And one thing in particular was a dealbreaker... she had to be a girl. Right now, I couldn't be sure of that. Also... as my mind continued to run through possible scenarios for how this might play out, one that I had danced around with before suddenly became the only one in my mind. Maybe this was just an attempt to lure me somewhere and rob or kill me. Why even bother setting up a meeting, if it was just a scam? "Can I see what you look like?"

"No faces!" A sad emoji went along with this.

"Body then?" I quickly added, "With a note maybe saying Star Rules?" It was the only thing I could think of. "Just enough to make sure you're a girl lol and not some psycho killer."

"Haha," she sent. "1 sec."

It was more like a minute, but then a picture blossomed on my phone. Lying on what seemed to be a huge bed, legs spread, was a girl, or at least the bottom half of one, taken from the POV of the stomach or so... so just her legs and crotch, but more than enough to see she was a girl, considering she was naked. Or mostly naked, she had some white short pants and yellow underwear, but they were down by her knees.

There was no doubts that it was a girl, and I thought she must have waxed because it was bare, so smooth and tight looking, not actually very defined more than a crack with a little bit of a nubbin, but it was a crack that removed all doubt that it was a girl I was talking to, at least, when you included the little torn off scrap of lined paper with the words "Star Rules!" on it and a small drawing of a happy face. Without that, it might have been grabbed off the Internet. If it was a scam, at least I was being scammed by a girl.

The other worry, although I wouldn't have been rude about it, was that she was obese, but no, she looked legitimately tiny, her legs had some muscle on it, and I thought she must have been one of those really short, svelte girls. I don't have a type... I have several types, and that was one of them.

I got a little hard at it, which was perfect timing, because she sent, "Now you."

"Do you want me to write anything?" I joked with her.

"No just a picture, I want to see your...." instead of finishing it, she posted an emoji of an eggplant.

I was more comfortable with that than showing my face anyway, even though I'd never done it before... this was a whole new world for me, and it was kind of exciting, to be honest. So, I whipped it out, snapped a good pic, then sent it.

And then, of course, felt anxious. What if it was too small for her? I'm not tiny, but I'm not huge either. I'm in the average range... maybe on the small side of the average range, when I measured, but I also told myself that I couldn't possibly be at my biggest and hardest while I had a ruler up to my cock. I hoped that as small as she looked, maybe she wouldn't be bothered.

An emoji with hearts in his eyes was my response, followed by "Yum, we ttly need to meet now."

"Now?" I said.

"No not now now." There was a short pause, and before I could reply, a follow-up. "Maybe Monday afternoon?"

"As long as it's after 6," I answered. That gave me enough time to get off work and take a quick shower.

"No I have ballet," she said, flashing a few more emojis, and my eyebrows went up. A ballet dancer working as a whore? Or maybe she meant she went as a spectator. Still, for some reason, the vision of a Russian dancer-wannabe, turning to prostitution to make ends meet in the big city while she pursues her dream, danced through my head. It made sense, actually, ballet dancers were supposed to be tiny little things, and that little glimpse I got of her body did seem to fit in with a dancer's body.

"This weekend, maybe? Like Friday night?"

"No good. Days are eaziest, if I'm not in school. Lunch best." That seemed a little odd. She was 19, probably a college student, but it would make more sense to me that she COULDN'T meet during the days. Unless she was a night student, but then why would lunch be such a big deal?

More pictures form in my head... a girl in a relationship, able to sneak around while her boyfriend or husband is at work, and she's supposed to be at school, but not while he's around. I'd occasionally fapped to cheating girl porn, and it was hot, but I was less interested in the idea in real life. Still... it had been so long, I was willing to make an exception, particularly with a tiny 19-year-old ballet dancer. I had a doctor's appointment on Thursday afternoon, nothing serious, just routine. I'd taken the whole day off because it would have counted as one anyway. I could easily manage a lunchtime meeting that day. Maybe on other days too, but we'd be at the mercy of our apparently conflicting schedules. I suggested Thursday at lunch.

"Ok! It's a date! But I choose the place!"

That seemed fair, even though part of me still suspected I'd be getting a mugging, or worse, I was too enchanted by the prospect of easy, meaningless sex with a hot girl to worry overmuch.

She didn't tell me where right away, although we talked a little over the next few days and I got the impression it was going to be outdoors. It was Wednesday afternoon that she sent me a message saying, "Still wanna?" When I said yes, she sent me a series of pictures, not even a location, but a street sign, followed by a pathway, followed by a large drainage pipe, this last with the caption, "Meet here, 12:15, don't be late."

"What is this, like a scavenger hunt?"

"Kinda," she replied with three winky emojis. I told her I'd be there.

I searched the street, found it on Google Earth, and even saw the pathway on the street view. Investigating further, it looked like a very small wooded ravine, a location that a drainage pipe might make sense, so it doesn't fill with water. I couldn't actually see the pipe on the map, but it made sense that it would be there and I figured I could find it in person.

The out of the way location itself was more evidence for the scam theory, of course... why not meet in a coffee shop, look innocent, and then go to my car for a more secluded location? It made sense that she might be an exhibitionist and got off on doing it outdoors, but I was well aware that the location she chose was also an ideal spot for a robbery/murder. Still... I guess I was thinking with my dick, and it was too excited about the possibility of a little attention that didn't come from my own hand. And it reminded me that too many of the problems in my life came from being too afraid of taking a risk... so this time, I was going to do it, I was going to take a risk have an experience, and hopefully get a good fuck out of the deal.

I got fucked all right.

I showed up early. In the hopes of reinforcing our common connection, maybe give us something to talk about to break the ice, I wore a t-shirt I thought she'd appreciate, a Gravity Falls one I'd got from the Internet, visible under a light jacket I wore for pockets more than warmth, since my pants didn't have any and I needed to carry my phone, money, and keys. And one more thing that wasn't usual for me... in one of the front pockets, I had a knife, just in case I wound up having to defend myself... I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid!

In that ravine, I waited nervously, and for a couple minutes past the appointed time, checking my phone for any update, listening for any signs of people approaching. My heart rate notwithstanding, it was a pretty peaceful location, lots of green, a few muddy paths from different directions that approached the drainage pipe before veering up the side of a hill or around some bushes. There was the distant sound of children playing from a nearby